entrancelogs | OTA ; Don't Stop, Make it Pop, DJ Blow My Speakers Up

Who: Lucifer Morningstar and OTA
Where: Deux Lux, Floor 6, Room 66
When: Anytime in March
Rating: TBD, probably PG-13 or so
Summary: Lucifer does what he does almost every other night - he has a party. Shenanigans and conversation ensue. This is essentially a catch-all for March for him. Let me know if you want something specific.
The Story:

[Once the drama of New Years dies down and he's drunk the entirely of his bar two or more times, Lucifer finally reopens his club to the public, seemingly no worse for the wear. He's chatted with a few specific people, reflected (marginally) on himself a bit, and has come to several conclusions.

All of which he'll be keeping to himself for the most part.

That said, he seems a bit brighter than even when he first arrived, as if there's a bit of weight off his shoulders, and he's almost less of a businessman and more of a guest in his own place as the nights continue on. He drinks along with everyone else, dances when he pleases, and plays the piano often, lending his singing voice more than occasionally.

Still, a few things weight on his mind that he'll need to take care of, but on the whole, he's quite chipper and easily approaching....or as approachable as the Devil can be.

That said, he's not seen a whole lot outside of his nightclub or his penthouse up the stairs, which means he might be a little more reclusive still than he first appears...]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Lucifer's concern is not something to be taken with a grain of salt, and Evelyn would be remiss if she did not acknowledge the grave set of his words, the conviction behind every syllable. He metes punishment to the wicked as a full-time job, and she cannot curtail his recreational activities here should he find someone to rend apart. She can only hope he'll have the wisdom not to do so in front of bystanders.

Evelyn's smile grows a little sad at his admission, and she amends.]

I wish I had known you two years ago.

[His smile grows a little smug at that, as if of course she does, though it quickly dissolves as he notices she's not entirely pleased by the course of their conversation.]

Wonderland doesn't much like granting wishes beyond simple objects, from what I can tell.

More's the pity.

[The memories attached to the sentiment are not kind, but it has been two years and Evelyn does not intend to be hounded by regret. Neither does she do things by half-measures, downing the rest of her glass in one swallow before reaching for the bottle and filling it up again.]

...I have a question,

[Evelyn then prefaces, kicking her shoes off and drawing her stockingfeet onto the sofa with her, with every intention of being comfortable.]

How do you judge the wicked? And not in the- metaphorical sense, I mean literally, do you see into people, or is it just from outward observation?

Perhaps I'll have an acceptable answer.

[His eyebrows lift at her question before he takes a drink and shakes his head.]

No mind reading, no x-ray vision, nothing like that. If I were capable of simply knowing just by looking, there'd be a lot less murders to solve I can tell you that.

[He takes another sip.]

What I can do is draw out someone's inner desires. You can tell a lot about a person by what it is they want at any given moment. Very helpful for getting a killer to confess.

[Evelyn never assumed it was as simple as staring someone in the face and reading their thoughts like a book, although many cultures and religions have their own methods for divining the direction of someone's afterlife. She almost wants to ask whether indulgences of the Middle Ages ever actually had any bearing on someone's post-mortem status, or if it was as big a grift as she assumed it was for Christendom.

She knows her wants, doesn't need anyone else to tell her by wheedling them out with a well-placed look, but Evelyn's query has a particular bearing on her own life - or lack thereof.]

...do you ever know, based on those desires? Which way someone will go?

[Asking for a friend.]

Not necessarily. Just because someone wants something doesn't mean they'll necessarily commit grievous sins to get it. It can be something of an indicator, however.

[He tilts his head at her, concerned.]

Why?

[His head is as thick as a brick wall sometimes.]

Um.

[Evelyn takes a deep breath, just enough to be indicative of her discomfort, and exhales with a little sigh. She doesn't know why she's asking him at all: Evelyn has always described herself as something of an atheist, or an agnostic, preferring to observe theology objectively, to study religious systems from within her academic purview.

People die. They rot. There is no afterlife, except when there is, and therein lies the question. Evelyn never considered these interminable vagueries until she became a part of them.]

...I died, in my world. I'm dead, it's- it's the last thing I remember, bleeding out.

[She cradles her cup in both hands, thinking.]

But I don't know if there is a- a darkness, or a punishment, for some of the things that I have done. I don't know if I will be judged before a set of gates, or along the River Styx, or by a god who weighs my heart against a feather. I don't know if I am to expect anything at all.

I see.

[Lucifer looks very perturbed by her admission, his eyebrows furrowing together, as if he hadn't even considered that a possibility. He knew it had happened to others that lived in Wonderland, that home meant death, but he didn't know it was true of her.

Given what he knows of the afterlife and his role in it, knowing such things always makes him unhappy in a damned if you do, damned if you don't sort of way.]

I think if Wonderland has proven anything, it's that no two dimensions work the same. I could tell you all there is to know about the Hell I ruled and the Heaven I left and it might not matter.

[A beat.]

But you don't strike me as someone damned, Evelyn.

[It is not information that Evelyn shares widely, and Lucifer must know the rarified company he is joining in hearing this. Aware that their worlds are different in the most exemplary of fashions it is probably silly to ask him at all, as if the eternity for his universe could be anything remotely similar to hers.

More than the loss of her life Evelyn fears the loss of her child, her husband, the faces tucked in her locket and her album of photographs. It does not escape her that she may never see them again, in this life or the next.

By his own admission Lucifer has no idea what she's done, whom she harmed in the process, plagued by the consequences of a decision she made nine years ago. Pandora was not exempt from the scattered evils as they flew from her jar.]

You wouldn't know, would you? [Discomfited she even thought to ask him this, Evelyn gingerly falls back to a wry sort of tease.] You're terrible at reading me.

[As far as Lucifer is concerned, context matters. He doesn't need to know what Evelyn has done in her past to believe in what he believes her future to be.]

I don't need to be a mind reader to know that you're not evil. And I'll be the first to admit that my Father isn't exactly what you might refer to as merciful.

[He takes a drink from his glass.]

I may not know everything about you, but I know the damned. I'm afraid you wouldn't fit in there. Most of them punish themselves with their own guilt for eternity after spending their life doing things only for themselves, causing pain simply because they could and it benefitted them to do so. Because they coveted things like money and fame and drugs over the lives of others. They believe their entitled to whatever they want regardless of the cost.

[He looks at her imploringly.]

Do you think that sounds like you?

No.

[The reply is quiet, although she does not maintain eye contact, does not sound convinced. Evelyn does not typically seek out help, and neither would she consider this asking for it, but being reassured often feels off - having participated so readily from the opposite side of this so many times it is odd.

To be on the receiving end.]

I suppose not.

Then let's just hope your Hell is similar to mine. Or, better yet, doesn't exist at all.

[He seems to contemplate that very idea, a strange expression on his face as he too looks away from her.]

Wouldn't that be a treat?

OTA ; Don't Stop, Make it Pop, DJ Blow My Speakers Up

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject